


Leave Our Troubles In The Sand

by symbiont



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Paris (City), Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbiont/pseuds/symbiont
Summary: Garak goes on Vacation with Julian to Paris. Everything is perfect until Julian suddenly starts acting strangely.





	Leave Our Troubles In The Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny little thing for garashir week day 3: Holidays/Vacations/Spending Time Together. I've always been super intimidated about writing Garak so hopefully this isn't too awful. Please let me know if you spot any errors or anything. Yell at me @sym-biont on tumblr. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

 

Garak isn’t sure what he had expected, really. They drift through the streets at a leisurely pace as the planet’s sun rises to its highest point. He can feel its alien warmth seeping into his skin and the surrounding scales but despite it being this regions Summer season, he finds that it’s still a little cold for his own tastes, adjusting the scarf wound around his neck with practised care. 

Julian, however, seems to be in his element - striding ahead through the crowds when he forgets to keep his pace measured and matching Garak’s steps. His voice rises loud and clear above the other snatches of conversation and bustle of the streets, as he explains each building and each piece of architecture, his cheeks glowing from the heat of the day and exertion. He is the picture of happiness - face relaxed and open, his mouth curved up into a wide but soft smile. Garak’s heart aches at the sight and he quickens his pace to keep up with his long-legged companion, huffing a little with the effort.

‘How about we stop for some brunch,’ Julian says, stopping so suddenly in the middle of the street that Garak almost walks into him. His voice is low and quiet and nothing like he’d been just moments before, Garak notes as he neatly steps around to Julian’s elbow and letting his fingertips trail across the small of Julian’s back – questioning and giving his support in one. The Universal Translator stumbles over that word - some kind of meal between a human’s breakfast and lunch, at the same time as Garak’s own mind stumbles at Julian’s obvious change in mood.

‘Lead the way,’ he replies quickly enough to mask the way his mind is racing, curving his lips into a smile and ducking his head benignly even as his heart aches. Their vacation has been perfect so far, as much as Garak is willing to admit anyway. Julian has been the perfect host – explaining every little detail, each grain of history in the architecture and people that swarm around them as if they both didn’t know that Garak would’ve researched this all himself, would’ve gathered every single piece of intel and memorised it perfectly.

Garak hadn’t exactly had his doubts about coming to Earth, even if it was far too _Federation_ for his own tastes. He’d wanted to see Julian’s home planet and privately was more than a little curious about this Earth city called Paris. It seemed far too beautiful and elegant to be real, even if this was by human standards. But Garak had wondered about what Julian’s reaction would be – he knew, after all, the Earth held as many painful memories for Julian as it did good memories. He’d wondered when they’d boarded the little transport ship all those days ago if this was a mistake.

Now as Julian pushes ahead of him into the little bustling café – speaking in strings of perfect French to the waiter, those doubts come back to the front of his mind as his Universal Translator tries to keep up. Even though Julian is smiling again now as he speaks to their waiter, Garak can see that his shoulders are rigid beneath his shirt and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Something is bothering him.

They are seated quickly – out on a balcony boarded by flowers, overlooking the very thing they had come to see. The Eiffel Tower rises out from the earth below, almost Cardassian in its construction, up towards the stars with such beauty that Garak can barely tear his attention away to look at the menu.

Julian orders for him anyway – two cups of tea and Café des Artistes speciality, two croissants with cream cheese and tomatoes. Garak can’t see what’s so special about it, they are in Paris after all, but decides that Julian wouldn’t appreciate his thoughts on the matter at that moment. Instead, he goes back to studying the view while they wait, Julian staying oddly quiet. Lost in thought, he decides, waiting for his moment to ask Julian about it.

Thankfully, their food arrives quickly, giving Garak something else to distract himself. He’s come to appreciate the textures and flavours of a few human foods, after practically living half in Julian’s quarters for the past few months. French cuisine especially. The croissant is light, melting on his tongue along with the cheese and balanced with the sting of the tomato.

‘Are you having a good day Garak?’ Julian says suddenly, croissant crumbs littering the corners of his mouth. His voice is still low and quiet and unlike himself. Dangerous.

‘Yes, my dear,’ Garak replies gently, steeling himself for the directness he must use. In the few months of their relationship, Garak has been a quick study - finding that while Julian enjoys their little games, sometimes a little directness goes a long way. Even if it goes against every fibre of his being. ‘Is there something bothering you?’

Julian exhales in one long breath before bringing his teacup up to his mouth and taking another sip. Garak gives him his space – gaze drawn back to the streets below as he takes another measured bite of his croissant. He feels lazy in the not-quite-hot-enough midday warmth, like he could just sit here staring out across the city forever.

 ‘Memories,’ Julian says finally, voice low and guarded. Garak turns back towards him, forcing himself to relax his posture – to look as relaxed and non-threatening as he can to comfort Julian. ‘Of, well, a lot I suppose,’ Julian continues after a moment, refusing to meet his gaze, ‘Palis…’

Ah.

‘My dear if it’s too personal for you to be here,’ he says, reaching out with his hand beneath the table until his fingers meet Julian’s. He twines them together – Julian’s soft warmth against his own rough palm, in some measure of support.

Julian takes another deep breath as if gathering all of his courage, and finally meets Garak’s gaze. ‘It’s fine Garak. Really. I just didn’t,’ he pauses seeming to search for the right words. Garak squeezes his fingers lightly against the back Julian’s palm and Julian squeezes back. ‘It’s just that I didn’t expect to feel so much. To miss her so much, to see her here even when she’s not. But,’ he says, leaning closer as if he’s telling Garak a secret, ‘I’ve decided that it’s fine. You see, I miss Palis – she was a great woman. But she has another life now and I have you. This is our place, our vacation.’

His dear Doctor is full of yet more surprises, it seems.

‘Let’s go to the beach!’ Julian says suddenly, his eyes bright with fire and Garak can do nothing except return his smile. It’s so easy, these days.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Leave Our Tribbles In The Sand


End file.
